


I could never find the right way to tell you

by suzukiblu



Series: I'll give them shelter like you've done for me [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Jaskier | Dandelion, Alpha Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Overstimulation, Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Potions, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: He’s not even really in heat anymore. It’s been so long he’s burned through it, and only the barest traces of it remain in his system; just enough to make him oversensitive, just enough to make himwanteven past his exhaustion.The rut potions Jaskier and Yennefer took seem just as virile as ever, though.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: I'll give them shelter like you've done for me [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630747
Comments: 86
Kudos: 1614
Collections: Polyamorous Relationships For the Win





	I could never find the right way to tell you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [circa1220bce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circa1220bce/gifts).



> Written for circa1220bce, who wanted more Geraskier A/B/O. I decided to continue this ‘verse for it and, well, I was originally planning to just do a tiny little emotional epilogue with Geralt and Jaskier but as y’all can see, shameless threesome PWP porn won. Not sorry!

Geralt is getting fucked. He knows it’s Yennefer doing it because she has her nails in his neck; if it were Jaskier, it’d be his teeth. 

And he can tell the difference between the feel of her clit and his cock inside him now, too. 

Geralt’s on his knees with his face in the now-rumpled nest Jaskier made out of his bed, oversensitive and aching and _messy_ and clutching at the sheets. He’s lost track of how long he’s been here, because before Yennefer was fucking him it was Jaskier, and before Jaskier was fucking him it was Yennefer, and before _that_ it was . . . 

They’ve just been taking turns with him, fucking him ‘til they _almost_ knot and then backing off and letting the other take over, and Geralt is so full but so _empty_ and he wants them both at once, wants them both inside him, wants them fat and swollen for him to lock. Normally he’d feel like that was too much to ask for, but they did it more than once during his heat, and the feel of coming around both their knots at once was just . . . 

_Fuck_ , but he wants it. 

He’s not even really in heat anymore. It’s been so long he’s burned through it, and only the barest traces of it remain in his system; just enough to make him oversensitive, just enough to make him _want_ even past his exhaustion. 

The rut potions Jaskier and Yennefer took seem just as virile as ever, though. 

“How is it, Geralt?” Yennefer asks breathlessly, digging her nails in over the bond bite in Geralt’s neck. Geralt bites his arm to hold back the noise he wants to make. “Too much?” 

“Don’t stop,” he manages, and she rumbles with warm satisfaction low in her chest. The sound of it stabs fresh arousal through him, and he tightens his grip on the sheets. Alpha likes it. Alpha likes _him_. 

Geralt isn’t the same kind of needy-for-approval that so many people think omegas should be, but he’s not immune to that feeling either. Especially he’s not immune to it when that approval is coming from an alpha who’s been fucking him as long as Yennefer has, and especially he’s not immune to it when said alpha _is_ Yennefer. 

And especially he’s not immune to it when . . . 

A hand strokes through his hair, and he bites back another noise he doesn’t want to make. 

“So sweet for us, omega,” Jaskier murmurs contentedly, and Geralt _shudders_. He lifts his head and opens his wet, empty mouth, but Jaskier doesn’t put his cock in it. He grips his jaw instead and strokes his tongue with his thumb, and Yennefer snaps her hips _in_ , and Geralt moans much too loudly. 

It makes Yennefer fuck him harder. 

It should be too much even for him, Geralt can’t help but think, being fucked this hard and this long and without any mercy from either of them. But his body is still soft and receptive from the last of his heat and they’re both touching him so perfectly and he’s just so _wet_ for them. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet in his _life_ , his slick and their come smeared down his thighs and making a mess of him. 

“Mess” isn’t a strong enough word. Geralt is _filthy_ with them, with their come and their touch and the arousal they’ve brought out of him, sweat and slick and seed dripping everywhere and wrecking the sheets. 

Jaskier pets his tongue again. Yennefer drags her nails across the back of his neck. Geralt shudders and shakes and can’t figure out which one of them to press into. Yennefer’s clit is splitting him open just right and Jaskier’s hand is gripping him perfectly and they’re just both so _good_. They’re both making him feel dizzy and stupid and overwhelmed. 

“Do you need a knot yet?” Jaskier says, killingly tender, and Geralt moans all the louder. He shakes his head frantically, because he wants it so _bad_ but what he really wants is both of them together, both of them inside him, both of their knots stretching him wide at once and almost too big for him to take. 

He can ask for that, he reminds himself. He can. 

He’s almost sure he can. 

The asking doesn’t happen, though, and he feels Yennefer’s knot press against his rim and press _in_ and chokes on a gasp. She fucks him to the root and he rocks back into her desperately. He wants her to knot, he needs her to knot, he wants her to come inside him and fill him up even more, ‘til he’s fucking _sick_ with it, ‘til—

“My turn,” Jaskier hums, and Yennefer snorts roughly and snaps her hips in one last time before pulling out. Geralt almost _sobs_ with how empty that leaves him feeling. Jaskier lets go of his face and he nearly collapses. He hides in the crook of his own arm and he can feel them moving on the bed and he just wants—he just—he wants, he _needs_ , and they’re the only ones who can give it to him, the only ones who can do it right, the only ones who _want_ —

Jaskier kneels behind him and puts his hands on his hips and Geralt feels the blunt pressure of his cock against his hole. He keens just for that and Jaskier pushes _in_ , and then he practically _wails_. 

“Noisy,” Yennefer says in a tone that passes for fond coming from her. Geralt lifts his head again, dizzy and stupid and so overwhelmed, and she cups his face in her hands and guides his head into her lap. He swallows her slick-soaked clit immediately, urgently, and sucks it just the way she likes. He wants her to like it. He wants her to _love_ it. 

She rumbles again, low and pleased, and Jaskier starts to move. Geralt moves between them the best he can, trying to encourage them both, and both of them fuck him. Yennefer’s rougher. Jaskier’s more eager. They’re both still merciless. 

He wants them to knot. He _needs_ it. And they both tease him with it, they both press their half-blown knots against his rim and his lips, but neither of them gives it to him. He keens again, clutching at the sheets and torn between chasing them, and they still won’t give him their knots. 

“He’s so wet,” Jaskier says, low and raspy-voiced. “Mmm. How much longer does the potion last?” 

“No idea,” Yennefer says, her own voice just the same. Geralt could almost come just listening to them. If they keep talking like that he just might. 

“Well, best not waste it, then,” Jaskier murmurs, leaning heavier over Geralt’s back and fucking into him harder and _still not giving him his knot_. Yennefer laughs and does the exact same thing. Geralt shudders, shudders, _sobs_. He wants it. He wants all of it. He wants to be stuck between them, full up with both of them, soaked with their come and his own slick and sweat. 

“Oh, I think it’s going to good use,” Yennefer says. Geralt tries to swallow her knot; she grips his hair tight and doesn’t let him. “Mmm, greedy boy. Ask me _nice_.” 

Geralt could pull back and beg them both, but instead he redoubles his efforts, sucking Yennefer’s clit eagerly and clenching tight around Jaskier’s cock and moving between them the best that he can. It’s the same difference, really. Yennefer groans, tightening her grip in his hair. Jaskier purrs, sweet as anything. 

“Oh, Geralt,” he says adoringly, and Geralt doesn’t know how to handle that tone of voice from anyone, even Jaskier. Jaskier slips a hand underneath his hips to rub his achingly oversensitive cock, and Geralt nearly chokes. The sheets he’s gripping tear in his hands. “ _Are_ you feeling greedy? Do you need more?” 

Geralt moans, and lets Yennefer’s clit slip out of his mouth to nod roughly, gasping for breath. She drags his head back and pushes the head of her clit against his exposed throat, leaving a streak of precome across his scent glands. 

“More what, Geralt?” she says, voice light. “Tell us.” 

“Yes,” Jaskier says, tender and adoring. “Let us hear it, omega.” 

Geralt’s fingers tighten in the sheets. Yennefer’s nails scratch at his scalp and Jaskier’s knot teases against him. They’re both as rumpled and ruined-looking as the nest, and he knows all those love bites and bruises on them are from him; they’ve barely done more than kiss each other. 

He wants to see them fuck someday, he thinks, distant and distracted, but right _now_ he wants . . . 

“Come in me again,” he rasps. “Both of you.” 

“How?” Yennefer asks as Jaskier purrs with pleasure and drops a kiss against the bond bite. Geralt shudders. 

“Together,” he says, shifting back meaningfully against Jaskier and shuddering harder. 

Jaskier pulls back, and Geralt moans as he’s left empty again. He pushes himself up shakily, still trying to breathe normally, and Jaskier and Yennefer press in close against his body, Jaskier against his back and Yennefer against his front. Yennefer drags her nails down his chest and Jaskier presses his teeth against the bond bite. Geralt feels a fresh rush of slick leaking out of his hole and bites the inside of his cheek. Yennefer pushes his thighs further apart and Jaskier rubs his cock against the curve of his ass. 

That’s definitely a “yes”, Geralt thinks, trying to tilt his hips so he’ll be as accessible as possible to both of them. They’ve fucked him together more times than he can even remember at this point, past the haze of heat and adrenaline and _wanting_ that it was all mixed up in, but he still isn’t quite sure what the best position is. 

“Please,” he says, pitching his voice a little quieter than usual. Jaskier purrs against the bond bite and Yennefer grins wickedly. 

“Isn’t _that_ nice to hear,” she says, tugging Geralt’s hips down against her own. Her clit slides into him easily and his breath stutters. He grabs her shoulders. Jaskier presses in tighter against his back and his cock slides in just as easily and stretches him wide. It doesn’t take anything more than that. Geralt’s body is still used to them, still wants them both. 

And they so obviously know that, because they don’t even wait to move. They fuck him together in long, slow strokes that let him feel every inch of their erections drag inside his body, and he groans hoarsely and rocks his hips down to meet them. Yennefer keeps her hands on his hips; Jaskier wraps his arms around him. Geralt makes noises he doesn’t mean to make. 

“Is this what you wanted, omega?” Jaskier asks in that adoring tone, kissing the bond bite and squeezing his arms around him. “Are we treating you right?” 

Geralt nods wordlessly because speaking would be far, far too much right now, and Jaskier purrs again and Yennefer bites his collarbone. They keep moving inside him so torturously _slow_ , and his body takes them eagerly and his breath hitches again and again with every thrust. 

He wants their knots. He wants them both. He keeps a tight grip on Yennefer’s shoulder and reaches his other arm back to grasp the back of Jaskier’s neck and keep him close. Jaskier purrs louder, nuzzling his throat, and they both slip just that little bit deeper inside him, and then a little bit deeper than that. 

Geralt whines. 

Their knots. He wants their _knots_. He wants them, he wants them, he _wants_ them—

“Jaskier,” he chokes. “Yen.” 

“Geralt,” they both say at once, Jaskier sweetly and Yennefer rumblingly, and he stifles another whine. They’re fucking him almost deep enough, almost, almost, _almost_ — 

“Please,” he says. “I need— _please_.” 

“Please . . . ?” Yennefer trails off meaningfully, and Geralt bites his tongue and grips them both tighter. 

“More,” he manages. “Please—more.” 

“I love it when you ask for things,” Jaskier praises in his alpha voice, the sound of it making Geralt’s gut spasm with heat, and then he pushes in _deep_ and Geralt feels his knot push in against him and then push _inside_ him, and his eyes flare and his thighs quake. “What else, Geralt? What else do you need?” 

Geralt chokes on noises he can’t let himself make, unable to respond. Yennefer leans into him, her grin still wicked and her knot pressed in tantalizingly close. 

“More?” she prompts. “Or is one knot enough for you now?” 

“No,” Geralt barely gets out, clutching at her back. Yennefer laughs and _snaps_ her hips in, and then both of them are in him to the root for one perfect second, and then both of them are pulling back to thrust in again, their half-blown knots popping out of him, and Geralt can’t hold back the desperate little cries this time, can’t keep his body from fucking itself on them, too much and too greedy and too _much_ , he’s sure, but . . . 

“There you go,” Jaskier croons, and Yennefer brushes Geralt’s hair back off his face and pulls him down to be kissed as Jaskier bites the back of his neck. Geralt keens into Yennefer’s mouth and she kisses him harder and Jaskier’s teeth dig in. He rides them urgently, rocking down onto their erections again and again, and they both meet him every time, both press into him deep, both fill him up so _perfectly_ — 

“Alpha,” Geralt gasps because he can’t choose which name to say, because after all this he can’t hold the word back. “Alpha, alpha, _alpha_ —” 

They fuck him harder. He meets them in kind. He feels overheated and desperate and so, so greedy. He’s being too much again for sure, except Jaskier and Yennefer aren’t stopping him or themselves, except Jaskier keeps biting his neck and Yennefer’s expression is smug and pleased, except they’re both hard and hot inside him, except . . . 

“Again, Geralt,” Jaskier rumbles in _that tone_ , and _“Alpha!”_ Geralt cries. 

He’s not immune, like he said. 

Jaskier and Yennefer growl in unison and Geralt clutches at them pleadingly, knowing his fingers are going to leave bruises but barely able to care as long as Jaskier and Yennefer aren’t shaking him off or pulling back, as long as they’re leaning into his grip, as long as they’re _here_. Jaskier pushes his swelling knot inside him and it swells up even bigger, presses against so many of his most sensitive spots, and Yennefer fucks into him faster and faster. He feels Jaskier come inside him, feels his body get even slicker and messier, and Yennefer thrusts in as deep as she can get, as her own knot swells and grows and she comes too, and Geralt is being much too loud and much too much but it’s so good, it’s _so good_ — 

He comes on their knots with a choked wail, both of them inside him just like he wanted, filling him up just like he wanted, and tries his best to lock them as tight as he can. Jaskier kisses the bond bite and Yennefer kisses his mouth and he gasps for breath and reaches down to touch the place where they’re both stretching him open and can’t repress a whimper as they shift inside him. 

“Geralt,” Yennefer says huskily, kissing him again. “Is it enough?” 

He nods helplessly. Jaskier rumbles against his throat and puts a hand on his cock again and _strokes_ , and Geralt chokes and keens and grips his wrist. He feels like he’s going to fall over; like he’s about to melt. 

Yennefer keeps kissing him and Jaskier keeps stroking him and he comes again between them, comes so hard he nearly blacks out, nearly _does_ fall over, nearly . . . nearly . . . 

“Omega,” Jaskier says in his alpha voice, and Geralt’s overwhelmed body trembles without permission. 

They just make it so easy. 

"Fuck," he manages, barely. Jaskier purrs, and keeps stroking his cock. It's too much, but Geralt doesn't tell him that. If he did he might stop. 

He doesn't want him to stop. 

"So pretty," Jaskier says adoringly. He twists his fingers. Geralt groans. Yennefer laughs and kisses him again, and he almost, _almost_ feels like it's enough. He kisses back hungrily, trying not to gasp or groan again, and Yennefer bites his mouth and pushes her hands over his chest. She pinches his nipples and kisses him harder, and he can't hold back the noises the treatment makes him make. 

Their knots are still so big, still filling him up so tight, and he . . . and he . . . 

Geralt chokes on a whine as they make him come again, easy as always, and Jaskier purrs and Yennefer laughs and he _trembles_. 

"Good boy," Yennefer says with a wicked smile. Geralt can barely breathe right. 

"Wonderful," Jaskier praises. Geralt almost wants him to keep touching him, but everything's just so _much_. He feels drunk and dizzy and weak. He should say something, he thinks, but he doesn't know what to say. 

Jaskier and Yennefer's knots go down, eventually, and they tug him down into the nest and lay down with him, both still pressed against him front and back, their arms wrapped around him. Geralt expects fucked again, but they don't yet. He feels heavy and sticky and still so _weak_. 

It's not safe, but he feels . . . 

Safe. 

He shudders at the thought and Jaskier bites the back of his neck and makes him shudder harder. Yennefer puts a hand between his thighs and fucks him with her fingers. He keens, sharp and breathless, and Jaskier takes his teeth out of his neck and tugs his face back to be kissed. Geralt can't smell anything but the two of them. Doubts anyone could. Witchers have subtle scents. Jaskier doesn't even when he's not on his cycle, and Yennefer's scent is heavy with rut. He must smell so—so _claimed_. 

He must smell like he belongs to them. 

He moans. Yennefer twists her fingers inside of him and Jaskier kisses him deeper. Neither of them shows any signs of stopping. He doesn't have to be in any rush to come. 

They make it easy, of course. 

"Geralt," Jaskier husks, and pushes his cock in beside Yennefer's fingers. Geralt chokes. "Oh, so lovely. Does it feel good?" 

Geralt nods helplessly. Jaskier _smiles_. 

"You're soaking," Yennefer says musingly, reclaiming her fingers and stroking his cock with them instead, all slick-sticky and merciless. "Can you come again?" 

"I don't know," Geralt croaks. He's dazed and weak and can barely move even as Jaskier starts to fuck him again in long, slow thrusts. He feels like he could melt away into nothing. Like he _might_. 

"You can," Jaskier says, putting a hand on his hip and dropping a gentle kiss against his scent glands. Geralt stifles another moan and nods helplessly. There's nothing he can do but just lie here and feel the way they're touching him wash over him again and again. He's too overwhelmed for anything else. 

Jaskier knots him, and they make him come again. Geralt makes— _noises_. 

He doesn't know what to do with something like this. It's so much. It's just . . . 

It's so _much_. 

Jaskier pulls out of him much sooner than he wants him to, and Yennefer pushes him onto his back and pushes in. Geralt can't keep himself from moaning again, much louder than before. Yennefer fucks him roughly and he clings to her, gasping and cursing through it. He might wail, a bit. It's hard to say. She comes inside him and he feels so _full_. 

It's so much. It's _too_ much. 

"Don't stop," he begs, and they don't. Yennefer's knot is fat and full inside him and they're both touching him and they _don't stop_ —

Geralt makes noises. Jaskier rumbles in pleasure. Yennefer does the same. Geralt—Geralt—

Gods, but he could _die_. 

"Alpha," he groans thickly, hoarsely, weakly. _"Alpha."_

"Geralt," they both rumble back in near-perfect unison. Geralt's voice cracks on something very close to a sob. Cracks again when Yennefer grinds her knot against his sensitive inner walls. 

"Come on," she says, grinning sharply at him, grinding inside him. Her hair's all in her eyes and her makeup's long since fucked-off and she looks more beautiful than he's ever seen her. "One more time for us. Be a good boy and enjoy your present, mm?" 

And again, it's easy, and Geralt comes without even having to try. He moans, sobs, _shouts_ , and Yennefer makes a triumphant noise and grinds their hips together harder to drag out the aftershocks and kisses him until he can't keep up anymore. 

Jaskier strokes the scent glands in his throat, and Geralt _keens_. 

"So sweet," Jaskier murmurs. "Geralt, I adore you. You're so pretty when you’re greedy.” 

"Jaskier," Geralt chokes. Jaskier strokes his scent glands again. _"Jaskier!"_

"I'm going to mate you, omega," Jaskier says, just barely breathless, and Geralt makes a sound that's much too desperate. "I'll take care of you 'til I'm dead. Tell Yennefer how good she's making you feel." 

"Good," Geralt rasps dizzily. "Feels good." 

"Just good?" Yennefer says. 

"Tell her," Jaskier croons. "She was so thoughtful to bring those potions, wasn't she?" 

"Good," Geralt manages again, far from his most eloquent. "Knot's so—knot's so good. Potions. Potions were _perfect_." 

"They were, weren't they,” Yennefer says with a smug hum. “I'll have to bring them again sometime." 

Geralt clenches his jaw. Yennefer kisses him again, just briefly. 

"He’ll like that," Jaskier says, leaning down to kiss him too. “Won’t you, Geralt?” 

"Yes," Geralt says, voice rough. Jaskier purrs, then kisses him again, and again, and one more time, and—

“Saps,” Yennefer says. 

“ _Excuse_ you,” Jaskier huffs at her. “That’s my wife you’re being so rude to.” 

Geralt clenches his jaw again. Jaskier strokes his scent glands again, and Yennefer pulls her softened knot out of him—he stifles a little keen—and then the two of them lay down on either side of him and wrap their arms around him. They don’t smell like rut anymore, finally, but they still smell _so good_ and Geralt knows he smells just like them. 

“Shut up,” he mutters at both of them. Yennefer laughs lowly and Jaskier nuzzles his throat with another purr. 

“Good?” he asks. Geralt nods jerkily, barely able to find a drop of tension in his body. He feels better than he thinks he’s ever felt, but . . . 

“Insatiable,” Yennefer murmurs nearly fondly, and Jaskier hums a few little notes, and then they both put their faces in his neck and their fingers inside him and fuck the slowest orgasm of his life out of him as he moans and moans and _moans_. Geralt can barely get his body to listen well enough to ride their fingers. Can barely believe he can even come again. But like always . . . 

They make it easy. Always. 

“There we go, love,” Jaskier murmurs once Geralt’s limp and completely spent and can barely keep his eyes open. He feels a way he’s never felt in his life and doesn’t know how to describe or define it, and doesn’t care enough to. 

It’s good. It’s very, very good. That’s all he cares about. 

“Fuck,” he rasps instead of _don’t call me that_ , still weak and overwhelmed and exhausted. He feels barely awake, and Yennefer and Jaskier seem almost as tired now that the potion’s wearing off, but not quite tired enough to roll away from him and sleep. They both lay their heads on his shoulders, and Jaskier catches one of his hands in his own. 

“I’m so glad you liked your present,” he says, squeezing his hand gently. 

“Mm,” Geralt says, barely getting up the willpower to squeeze back. The soft joy that Jaskier radiates at the gesture makes it more than worth the effort, and Jaskier pulls his hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Something in Geralt’s chest clenches just a little painfully. 

“You two are disgusting,” Yennefer says in tired amusement, tracing a fingertip over his chest right where that feeling is. 

“Mmm, don’t care,” Jaskier hums, nuzzling Geralt’s shoulder and still holding his hand. “Really we’re _all_ disgusting, we’re an unholy mess.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Yennefer groans, shifting in closer against Geralt in a way she never has before. Geralt likes it. A lot. 

“I’ll get us a washcloth in a minute,” Jaskier promises. 

“Could be faster.” 

_“Ungrateful.”_

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs, turning his head just enough to press his mouth into the other’s hair, and Jaskier tilts his head and kisses his jaw. Yennefer snorts, and sits up carefully beside them to go get a cloth herself. Geralt misses her against his side, but . . . 

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier hums contentedly. Geralt . . . sighs, quietly, and tightens his grip on the other’s hand. 

“Where are you going after this?” he asks. 

“Oh—I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it yet,” Jaskier says, clearly a bit distracted with mouthing across his jaw. Geralt’s a bit distracted by that too, but . . . 

“You should think about it,” he says, and Jaskier . . . pauses. 

“Oh?” he says, voice careful. Like he’s trying not to spook a half-feral horse or something, Geralt thinks in vague exasperation, except he still feels too good to really feel exasperated. And he can’t quite blame Jaskier for it, either. 

“Oh, don’t make me listen to you two be even _worse_ ,” Yennefer huffs, coming back with a damp cloth and passing it to Jaskier, who carefully cleans Geralt up and then gives himself a cursory rub-down. 

“I think you’ll have to live with it just a little bit longer,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at Geralt with gleaming eyes. “Why, Geralt? Where are _you_ going after this?” 

“You haven’t told me yet,” Geralt replies quietly, and Jaskier _thrums_ , tightening his grip on his hand again as his face lights up. 

“Well,” he says, smiling widely. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


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